


Gives You Hell

by serein



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crack, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-13
Updated: 2014-09-13
Packaged: 2018-02-15 23:28:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2247399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serein/pseuds/serein
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Sarah (tempered_rose), because she deserves a story. Also an 'eff you' to an authority figure story is something we both need so here we are.</p><p>Happy Birthday, Thomas-I have adored you for several years and wish you many beautiful birthdays to come :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gives You Hell

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tempered_rose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tempered_rose/gifts).



> Sarah, if you're reading this, this is for you, darling.
> 
> Set to [Gives You Hell](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uxUATkpMQ8A) by the All American Rejects. Good song-download it!

* * *

_And truth be told I miss you//And truth be told I'm lying//When you see my face//Hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell//When you walk my way//Hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell//If you find a man that's worth a damn and treats you well...then he's a fool you're just as well//Hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell!_

"Hey, Thomas! Wait up, I've got to talk to you."  
The overhead chandelier radiates a soft glow and the shadows that are cast by Manuel and Thomas appear faint and fuzzy, distant recollections of the humans they attempt to mirror. The fountain hums softly in the background, and the gilded, Venetian marble is a polished as anyone might imagine in a high-class office building in New York City. The windows are statuesque and a solitary stone angel greets all passerby in the foyer. The receptionist at the lobby desk looks cold and professional-hair tied up in a bun, glasses high up on the bridge of her nose. A strict pearl necklace around her neck, the receptionist glances up at Manuel with a stare that clearly conveys _go away, you're a nuisance_.  
Manuel doesn't care, though-Thomas is of the most importance right now.  
"Oh, hello, Manuel, did you sleep well-I mean, how are you today?"  
"Pissed at the boss."  
Thomas laughs, sharp and bitter.  
"Big surprise. Did you see what he was like to me? _Oh, Mr. Müller, will you get me a cup of kafee? Oh, Mr. Müller, will you peeck up my dry clening? Mr. Müller, will you be my personal servant?_ " Manuel butchers the accent, mimicking their boss' signature cocky lilt and overall stinginess toward Manuel and Thomas-who are now, like schoolchildren, in separate cubicles that are in the two opposite corners of the room. The secretary looks at them disapprovingly, crinkling her nose and acting in the fashion that she would at seeing a bug on her desk: annoyed, vengeful, and wishing instant mortality on the two of them. Manuel and Thomas don't care. Well, at least Manuel thinks that Thomas doesn't care. Leaning in, Thomas whispers to Manuel, his hot breath sending an unnerving chill down Manuel's back. "I don't give a fuck what that secretary thinks." Well, that confirms it.

"Thomas! Don't say that!"  
"Since when have I been one to step back?"  
"A very, very good point."  
Absentmindedly, Manuel peers up at the gargantuan vintage clock that rests on a high pedestal, the steel hands browning with age.  
"It's...oh crap."  
"Eight-thirty P.M. Why?"  
"I promised Kathrin I would be at the gallery showing at eight-fifteen..."  
"Then hurry the fuck up!"  
Thomas' expletive-laced passion is met with a startled yet accusatory glance from the secretary and the guards shift, uneasy.  
"Go, Manuel! Stop staring at me and go!"  
By some unrecognizable force, Manuel is compelled to stand there.  
"Manuel, are you listening to me? You need to go! She said she would break up with you if you didn't go, remember? Manu, go!"  
Manuel is frozen.  
What was he saying?  
Something about going?  
Kathrin?  
What?  
Just his turquoise eyes...had he ever said how sexy Thomas' eyes were...  
Thomas, seeing Manuel's dazed state, gives the blond a slight shove forward, which pulls him out of his stupor.  
"Hi, what?"  
"I said, Manuel, go! Go to Kathrin! She'll break up with you if you don't."  
Manuel hesitates, but turns, walking briskly towards the revolving glass door.  
"Run, Manu, run!"  
"I will, bye Thomas!"  
"Bye, Ducky!"  
But Manuel is already gone.

The secretary scoffs, as if pushing Thomas.  
"Ducky?"  
Her perfectly red lips sculpt into a mean smirk, and she glowers at Thomas.  
"Oh, fuck off."  
And with that, Thomas is running to the doors. Sliding past the revolving doors, he lets himself get lost in the ocean of people-tourists, the homeless, businessmen, models, singers, and on and on and on.


End file.
